


Petit fours

by beautifulcheat (Katalyst), ladynox



Series: Proof in the pudding [2]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Background Relationships, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Isobel Evans is an annoying relative but also sweet af, M/M, Malexa, Maria DeLuca Deserves Nice Things, Maria DeLuca Positive, Mostly Fluff, people reacting to cake, texting fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:20:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26393293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katalyst/pseuds/beautifulcheat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladynox/pseuds/ladynox
Summary: While Michael attempts to hide his new baking habit, life in Roswell continues and the people around him have some things to say about all the cakes that are popping up.
Relationships: Isabel Evans & Rosa Ortecho, Maria DeLuca & Alex Manes, Maria DeLuca & Isabel Evans, Maria DeLuca/Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Maria Deluca & Liz Ortecho, Max Evans/Liz Ortecho
Series: Proof in the pudding [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918213
Comments: 110
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short companion/background piece to the Great New Mexico Fake-Off. We suggest you read, at very least, the corresponding chapters to that first! <3

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz and Maria discuss mint chocolate cake and Canada, Izzy taunts Maria with lemon pops.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria has a rough day. Cinnamon rolls help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We break from form here with a drabble preceding the texts. Prepare for a bit of angst! Also one conversation has a very slightly spoilery preview for Ch 5 of fake-off. Just a heads up ;)

Maria watched Michael walk into the bar, young, too young to be there. He was scrawny, too-thin. Looked about sixteen, honestly. He scoped out the place, the pool tables, watching for a while before going up to the most obviously drunk guy playing. She noticed his unbroken hand as he nervously racked up the pool balls, making a bet. She wasn’t sure, but she thinks it was his first time hustling pool at the Pony.

She circled the table, watching him, fascinated. By the way he handled the pool cue, squeezed it, nervously, she could tell he wasn’t a natural. It looked like the first time he was playing. He made a shot, his eyebrows gathering in that tell-tale way. He was using his TK to sink the shots, which honestly was his only saving grace, because without it, he would be barely hitting the cue ball. It was adorable.

All she wanted to do was chide him, pull him away from the pool table, and get him a decent dinner. Run her fingers through those curls, and promise him that it would be okay. That he would be loved. Not that she could. She couldn’t interact with the visions, no matter how hard she tried.

 _Besides_ , she thought, bitterly, _it’s not like you’re exactly keeping that promise lately._

“Breathe,” Isobel was saying, softly, sitting next to Maria, rubbing her back gently. “Relax. Let it just wash over and out, like a wave.” 

Her voice was soothing. Maria wasn’t particularly soothed though, Michael’s face in her mind -- not the babyish version of her vision, but the heartbroken one from the hospital -- even as the crystalline-blue of the vision softened, solidified into the warm, true light of the here-and-now.

She groaned, letting her head rest back against the booth she and Isobel had been sitting in. “Ow.” 

“What did you see?” Izzy was asking. Shifting to get up and find the tequila, pouring a couple glasses and bringing them over, offering one to Maria.

She took it, gratefully. 

“Michael.” She rubbed her temple. “I think the first time he came here.”

Isobel nodded, looking speculative. “You got out of that one pretty quickly. What did you think about?”

Maria rolled her eyes, then closed them, letting the tequila warm her. “Give you one guess.”   
  
“Thought as much,” she said with a nod, and started digging in her purse.

“Please tell me you’re searching for painkillers, Iz.” 

Isobel laughed. “Something better. Here it is.”

Maria cracked open an eye, then straightened, frowning. “Is that?” 

“Stole it from his trailer the other day.” Isobel nodded, and handed it over.

“Why…?” Maria turned it over in her hands. The worn, thin, familiar fabric of the bandana was immediately recognizable and Maria had to swallow a lump in her throat. 

“Sometimes, when you’re adrift, it helps to have an anchor. A point to come back to. I usually use Max… You know he’s always there in my head, right? Like a warmth? I just find that. Follow it, and use it to pull me back to myself. I think you’re doing the same thing with Michael. And I thought it might help if you had something tangible to hold while you do.” 

Maria made a face, looking up at her. “I’m not…” 

“I’m not judging.” Isobel held up a hand. “And you shouldn’t judge yourself, either. You don’t get to choose your anchor, Maria.” 

The flood of emotion was sudden and vicious. Maria found herself holding back tears, biting her lip on it. She didn’t want to cry in front of her blond glamazon badass bitch of a great-aunt. She _wouldn’t_. 

Thankfully, Isobel ignored her, getting up to go grab the bottle of tequila while Maria got herself under control… and used the stupid bandana to dab at her eyes, thanking the universe that it was, somehow, clean.

When Izzy came back, she poured some more tequila and sat down, just rubbing Maria’s back again, quietly. It was the nicest damned thing Izzy had ever done for her. Maybe she’d even change Isobel’s name in her phone. Probably not. But _maybe_.

* * *

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izzy has a project for Rosa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed time isn't exactly linear or coupled to the Fake-off timeline. This is deliberate because we're really looking at these as supplemental drabbles and we'll do our best to avoid major inconsistencies or spoilers. :)

* * *

* * *

Weeks later, Isobel was looking through Rosa’s finished works, while they sipped mocktails that Izzy had brought over in tumblers. Rosa scrolled through Instagram idly while Izzy looked at her art, chatting about each piece. A compliment here, a jab there, aimed at making Rosa laugh and snap back at her. Isobel was easy to talk to. Funny and snarky in a way that Liz could never be. 

Rosa looked up from her phone when Isobel gasped. Wide eyed, Isobel flipped the square canvas she was looking at to Rosa. “When did you…?” It was an achievement to render Isobel Evans speechless, that was for sure, and Rosa felt a little thrill of victory. Still, though, she was a little embarrassed.   
  
“Last month or so,” Rosa said, shrugging, glancing away from the painting of Isobel. It was one that Isobel didn’t know Rosa was doing and she wasn’t quite ready to unveil it -- she had meant to hide it under the bed, at least for now. But it was always her intention to give it to Izzy. 

Rosa supposed the idea had been brewing inside her for a while. Maybe from the moment they first met. _Really_ met, that day in Max’s house. But the urge to put pencil to paper didn’t come until recently. God only knew they mostly just snarked at each other and they were happy to do it. Just because you had shared trauma didn’t mean you wanted to dwell on it together. But their unfortunate common trauma was a foundation… for better moments. Those moments when they were just chilling or chatting… 

Isobel got her. And Rosa realized that she understood Isobel in return. And what she saw was something she wanted to draw. 

Isobel dropped down on the couch next to Rosa, still looking at the painting. Rosa couldn’t help but look at it too. There was something strong but vulnerable in the warm, bold colors Rosa had chosen. There were birds -- peacocks or hummingbirds… no, something more otherworldly, _alien_ , about those birds -- swirling around the background. The whole impression was something bold, strong, free, and somehow ethereal. It was a version of Isobel that not many had seen, what lay under all the layers of performative bullshit that she’d been shedding over the last year. Rosa was pretty sure she wasn’t even used to seeing it in herself. 

“I mean…Just wow.” Izzy’s voice was a little hushed.  
  
“You’ve been on my mind a lot,” Rosa shrugged. “Guess that’s because I’ve been trying to figure out what to paint for your place. Sometimes you just get in tune with your patron.”   
  
Isobel chuckled. “Patron huh? So you’re Leonardo da Vinci now?” 

Rosa rolled her eyes. “I mean, you’re paying for my art, you don’t think it’s accurate?” 

Izzy made a face. “I dunno. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love your art, and it’s a hell of a lot better than the stuff I’ve seen in the consignment stores. But maybe just think of it as Noah reparations?” 

Rosa looked at her for a moment. _This dumbass_ , she thought before she punched her in the arm. Hard enough that Izzy winced. “Ow,” she protested, rubbing her arm. “What was that for?”

“Stop being an idiot. You’re not responsible for him.”

Izzy grimaced. “Yeah, I know. I just…”

“Look, I like you, okay?” Rosa said, with restrained exasperation, which was honestly growth for her. She wanted to punch her again. 

“You liked Noah too, so I’m not sure that’s saying much.” 

“No, I liked _you_. Even with all that blonde robot bullshit, I liked you, or whatever you let people see in school. You could be kind of a bitchy badass. Except when you were being a bitch to me, that was just uncalled for… and usually Noah’s fault, anyway.” She shook her head. “Noah was the only version of you that wanted to talk to me. And trust me, his whole act was wearing real thin by the end of it.” 

“I’m sorry,” Izzy said, looking at her seriously. “For what it’s worth, high school me was an idiot, and I like hanging out with you now?”

“Good, you better,” Rosa said, flipping her hair a little. “I am _by far_ the coolest person in town.” 

Isobel laughed, raising her tumbler to cheers Rosa. “Yes, you are. By the way, have you ever considered trying jiu jitsu? You’ve got a good arm on you.” 

“Only if I get to punch you in the face.”

“If you think you can reach,” Izzy said lightly. She never saw the pillow coming, as Rosa swung it at her head.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izzy drums up some business for Maria, Alex and Maria have a chat

* * *

Alex rolled into the bar after a particularly annoying video call with his CO. Sure the day wasn’t _exactly_ over, but fake doctors appointments were a fantastic excuse to cash in on some sick leave and day drink with his best friend.

Maria, true to form, had a beer in his hand before he sat down, practically. But he couldn’t talk to her, even though the bar was still pretty empty this early in the day, because she was busy with her phone.   
  
“Something serious?” He asked after about ten minutes of watching her type furiously.   
  
“Izzy wants to book the Pony for a Bridal shower,” Maria said. “On a Sunday!”   
  
“You’re closed on Sunday.”   
  
“I know! But apparently they can pay. Maybe even top shelf.” There was that gleam in her eye that he liked so much. Such a hustler.

So Alex left her to it. He wasn’t about to get between Maria DeLuca and money. He was fond of living. 

She kept at it… stopping here and there to serve the few early-day regulars that were milling about. And eventually she got back to him. 

“Michael’s coming by soon.” She dropped, nonchalantly. “Bringing me a delivery.”

“Oh.” Alex frowned, looking at his beer that he’d been nursing, wondering if he should chug it and get out of there. He really hated drinking fast, though. 

“You should stay.”

Ugh. Being best friends with a psychic really had its downsides. “Nah. I have some work to get back to.”

“No, you don’t.” Maria looked at him, somewhere between sympathetic and exasperated. “You should stay. You miss him.” 

“Yeah, well. So do you, so you know that doesn’t matter.” He shot back, bristling, in what was definitely the lamest retort ever.

“No I don’t.” 

“Oh fuck you, I know you do.” Alex rolled his eyes a little taking a long annoyed pull from his beer. 

“Actually, no. I don’t.” Maria shook her head. “I miss what we had, sure? I miss waking up in that stupid airstream and how hot he gets and how he never complained when I put my cold feet on him. And I miss how _sweet_ he can be, especially when I’m having a hard day. But I still see him, Alex. You know you’re allowed to hang out with him. Encouraged, even.”

“It’s just bad for both of us,” Alex started… and at her skeptical look, he continued. “It hurts him. Hanging out with me platonically. I don't want to mess with him.”

“You both are in different places than you were when you first came back.” She rested her hands on her hip. “I don’t think having a beer once in a while or talking about your day is going to send him off to the pit of despair.” 

He groaned. Shaking his head a little. She didn’t get it.

“Hey,” she said, softly, nudging him a little. “I don't think you hear this enough. You _deserve nice things_ Alex.” 

“I have a nice thing with Forrest,” Alex reminded her.   
  
Maria threw him a look of pure exasperation. “I mean Jesus Christ Alex, are you saying you’re gonna throw that away if you’re within sniffing distance of Michael Guerin? Because if that’s the case, I’m going to dump you _for_ Forrest and save him the trouble.”   
  
“Of course not,” he protested. God she was good at pointing out when he was being a dumbass. He hated it, and hoped she never changed.   
  
“Then you’re just being dumb.”   
  
“Hey!” He protested, even if she was absolutely, completely right. He was stubborn and he didn’t want to admit it.   
  
“No really. You’re being dumb.” Without breaking eye contact, Maria popped open another beer and slid it over to him. Very much ensuring he’d have to stay for a little while longer. “You're punishing yourself. You don’t need to. Michael likes your company. He likes _our_ company even if it’s not romantic. Why do you think he keeps making me cakes even though we broke up. It’s just an excuse to hang out.”   
  
“Oh you know he’s making the cakes huh?” And here he’d thought that he was the first and only person to figure out Michael’s little game. His pride was taking a bit of a hit.   
  
“I am offended that you think I wouldn’t know.”   
  
Alex laughed. “Fair point.” 

“Plus... I mean… I _might_ have helped him make ice cream last night,” she said with a too-deliberate cadence that spoke of guilt but was completely affected. But he only knew that because he knew _her_ probably better than he knew himself, and thus he also understood that she was trying to make a point. 

And he wasn’t going to take the bait. “So everything’s all rainbows and sunshine now?”  
  
“No, it’s all chocolate bourbon ice cream, smartass,” Maria said, clearly displeased with his stubbornness. He rolled his eyes. 

“If he keeps this up, he’s gonna make someone an excellent wife, someday.” 

Maria groaned, and he got a face full of the bar towel. It did not smell awesome.

“I hate you.” He tossed it back on the bar, rubbing at his face. 

“It's not my fault you were being sexist,” she said, and was plunking a fresh beer right in front of him. “The other one was getting warm,” she said, by explanation, with more affected innocence.

He knew her game. She was stalling and wasn’t even bothering to be sneaky about it. “That’s wasteful, Maria.” 

“It’s not a waste if it’s you…” Maria winked at Alex, who picked up the new beer bottle and drank from it. Maria made a little condescending nod of approval which he was preparing a scathing reply to when she gasped, grinning widely at something behind him, “Is that my ice cream?!” 

Michael’s warm laugh broke out from behind Alex, and his stomach flipped slowly. All these years and he still felt like a teenager every time he heard that laugh. “Special delivery.” 

Alex shook his head a little at Maria as she was grabbing spoons. She was an evil genius.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which that damned hat is the talk of the town, Izzy refuses to make a bet she knows she'll lose, and Alex appreciates cinnamon rolls, both baked and alien.

* * *

* * *

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the ladies of Roswell uphold the town tradition of punning and Maria and Alex have dinner together.

* * *

* * *

“I’m glad Forrest took it well,” Maria said in between bites of chicken korma. They were sitting in Alex’s kitchen, eating Indian. Maria’s idea of proper break-up aftercare was food, and Alex honestly could get behind that.

“I mean, it was pretty mutual,” Alex sighed, shrugging. “Fun while it lasted, right?” Echoing something Forrest had said. “He and I were looking for different stuff. He was ready for something more serious, I wasn’t. No big deal, right?” 

“Aren’t we all healthy adults around here?” She waved her fork, and braver than any Marine ( _pft_ ), took a bite of his chicken vindaloo. He raised an eyebrow as she started coughing, grabbing her mango lassi and taking a healthy gulp of it. 

“God, I always forget about your iron fucking stomach,” she complained, as soon as she could breathe again, eyes teary. 

He smirked. “In this case, I think it’s more a good thing that I have an iron butt hole.”

“Ew.” Maria laughed, still taking sips of her lassi - which was spiked with vodka, and really couldn’t be helping all that much. “Of all the things I expected to talk about while consoling you about your breakup...”

“Hands off my food, DeLuca and we won’t have to talk about it.” Alex smirked, taking another bite just to spite her. 

“You’re a psycho. Just get your pain in like a normal person and ask someone to spank you, weirdo. I’m pretty sure Isobel could find you a professional.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m going to take the last samosa,” Alex said, hand hovering over the pastry, questioning.

“Go ahead, I can’t eat another bite,” Maria groaned, leaning back in her chair. “You ordered way too much.”  
  
Alex shrugged and said, “no such thing as too much food” before biting into the samoas. 

“You and Guerin,” she groaned, tossing a napkin in his direction, half-heartedly. “Living garbage disposals.” 

Alex chuckled thinking about replying with a barb about her caloric intake being mostly alcohol but then deciding against it. That would just derail the conversation into a full on snarky sparring match, which though usually fun, wasn’t what he was looking for right now.

“Speaking of Guerin,” Alex said instead. “Are you finally hiring him full time as the Pony’s pastry chef?” 

Maria groaned. “I would, but the renovation to put a decent kitchen in for him would probably bankrupt me.” 

“Fair.” Alex sighed. “He really should be baking for a living. I actually brought it up to him.”

“Of course you did!”  
  
“Like you weren’t thinking it.”   
  
“Yeah but I was going to ask him subtly.”   
  
“It’s been,” here Alex paused a second to look at his smart watch. “A million years and you still haven’t asked him.”

Maria rolled her eyes. “Ok what did he say.”

“He brushed it off.”

“Exactly.” Maria crossed her arms over her chest, putting on her most infuriating knowitall look. 

“It’s got nothing to do with when you ask him,” Alex huffed. “He just doesn’t think he’s good enough.” It was unsurprising, sad, and more than a little frustrating that Michael’s self-esteem was so low.

“Isn’t that always the case with him?” Maria said. “No matter how many times we all try to make him see himself differently.”

“Yeah….” Alex didn’t bother mentioning that, unlike Maria, he hadn’t always been good for Michael’s self esteem.

“So… you and him,” he started, cautiously. “Are you… getting serious again?” Taking a drink of his spiked lassi, trying to be casual. 

Maria chewed her lip a bit. “I dunno…. kind of feels like I should be asking _you_ that question.” 

Alex sputtered. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, Alex,” she said, gently. “You didn’t break up with Forrest because you weren’t ready for something serious. You broke up with him because you finally actually are.”

He stared at her for a long moment, before groaning. “How do you _do_ that?” 

“Part alien, all amazing.” She shrugged. 

He rolled his eyes, grabbing the napkin she’d thrown earlier and throwing it back at her. 

“Seriously though,” she started. “Last time was a train wreck. I don’t want to do anything that could push us apart. It sucked bad enough not having you around for the better part of a decade.”

“I told you. Nothing’s going to come between us.” Alex shifted to nudge her until she got up and, grabbing their spiked lassis, they made their way to his couch. Sitting down side by side, Maria leaned against him, seeking out the warmth and comfort of his friendship. He gave it easily, wrapping his arm around her shoulder again and tugging her closer. 

“But, just to be _specific_ , because there were lots of trainwrecks...” He started, trying not to smirk. 

She scoffed, hitting him. But it wasn’t like Alex didn’t have a point, and they both knew it. Trainwreck might actually be underselling the last year or so. “You know... me, falling in love with your soulmate, refusing to admit that I’d fallen in love with him, and falling into a shame spiral?” 

“Oh, was it a shame spiral?” 

“I knew what he meant to you,” Maria said. “But I was selfish anyway. I went for it…” Alex pressed a kiss in her hair. “I know you’re not mad but it still wasn’t my best moment.”  
  
“No it wasn’t,” Alex agreed. He was quiet for a moment, sorting out his thoughts. “ But I can’t say had our situations been reversed that I’d have done anything different. I mean, we’re already kind of doing it again, right now? Even though we both know the other is interested, neither of us has stopped circling him. Neither of us wants to be the one to graciously bow out.”   
  
“I…” Maria started, letting out a slow breath. 

“I mean, at this rate we’re going to have to work out a custody agreement,” Alex joked, dryly. 

Maria shifted up to look at him, eyebrow raised. 

“I’m _kidding_ ,” he said, immediately. 

“No, actually, that’s… not the worst idea you’ve ever had,” Maria said, slowly.

“You can’t share custody of an adult, Maria.”  
  
“Don’t be purposefully obtuse, Alex. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”   
  
He did. But he didn’t know how to feel about that. His thoughts immediately going back to that night at the airstream and then the disastrous morning after. 

“Look,” she shifted, cross-legged, sideways on the couch. “I can’t ask you to give up the love of your life for me.” 

Alex started to protest, but she held up her hand. “And vice versa.” 

“So you admit he’s the love of _your_ life?” He couldn’t resist the jab, even if Maria glared at him over it. 

“ _And_ it’s unfair of us to ask him to choose,” she talked over him, absolutely ignoring it. “I don’t think that’s actually in his nature.”   
  
Michael’s eyes had been so wide that night, after Maria had kissed Alex. Alex had known Michael long enough to recognize the want, restrained by disbelief and caution. And he’d also known Michael long enough to know that what happened in that trailer wasn’t really about sex. Michael was Maria’s, as much as he’d ever been Alex’s. That was one of the reasons he’d been able to walk away. He’d felt like he was leaving Michael in good hands.

“Agreed,” Alex said, cautiously. 

“So we don’t make him,” she said, as if it was all so simple.

“And you think this can, in any way, work?” 

“Michael has more capacity for love than anyone I’ve ever met before,” she said, eyes soft. “And anything has to work better than what we were doing before,” she pointed out. “Besides, we love each other just as much as we love him.” 

Alex frowned. “It’s not the same though.” 

Maria smiled, reaching over to squeeze his arm. “No two loves are, right?”  
  
Alex snorts. “Who even are you? That's so sappy.” Maria glared at him, clearly not interested in his jokes right now. “Ok, look. Jokes aside. That’s a lot sentimental and not very practical. We love each other, sure, but you’re talking like we’re getting in a relationship too and--”   
  
Maria frowned. “I’m a little insulted that you’d think I’d expect anything like that from you.”   
  
Alex flushed. “No. That’s not what I mean. I mean… the last time we--” Alex scrubbed his face with his hands, feeling completely out of sorts and off kilter. Maria squeezed his shoulder and he leaned into it. “Do you have any experience with this?”   
  
“Aside from that time at the airstream that’s circling around in your head right now?” Maria asked with a wry smile. “You know I don’t. But I think we can make it work.” 

Alex hesitated. But, he knew that they’d been on this path for a while now. Maria was just not letting him deny it anymore. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “We’re going to need to agree on terms.”

“Lord, you really are going to treat this like a custody agreement.” Maria rolled her eyes, but she was smiling like she was sure this could work as long as they put in the work. While all Alex could imagine was a complete and utter catastrophe. 

“I don’t want to fuck it up,” Alex said simply. “If I do, I’m not sure there’s another chance for Michael and I after this… and we’re both so good at fucking it up.” He wasn’t looking at Maria, but at his hands. She covered them with her own hands, offering comfort without disagreeing with his statement. “And I don’t want to be the reason you guys get fucked up too. I don’t want our bullshit metastasizing in your relationship.” 

“Or vice versa,” Maria replied, softly. “It’s not like Michael and I are bullshit free. We’re not together right now for a reason.”

Alex smiled. She was right. He could joke about her finally admitting to not being perfect for once. But again, not what he wanted. He squeezed her hand and got up, grabbing the notepad he kept on his keyboard--for writing music. 

“Ok, so. Rules for courting Michael Guerin,” Alex said. Maria laughed, which is what he wanted. He laughed too.

“ _Courting_? Is he some kind of Victorian maiden?” Maria was grinning as Alex sat back down next to her.

“I mean, he started it,” Alex said, dryly. “Whether or not he admits it, all those baked goods? The obsessive need to figure out what I like? Courtship.” 

“Maybe _you’re_ the Victorian maiden,” Maria laughed. 

“Hush.” He bopped her nose lightly with the end of his pen, and, ignoring her indignant squawk, wrote it down at the top of the page, underlining it. “Okay. So like we were saying, we’re never going to put him in a position where he feels like he has to choose between us. But we also have to--”  
  
“Communicate,” Maria interjected. “You two are terrible at it so I dunno put a little alarm on your phone or something or we set up a weekly meeting.”   
  
“That seems excessive.”   
  
“You’re the one with the notepad and the written rules on courtship, Miss Bennet.”

He scoffed. “Come on. Darcy, at least.” 

“Hm…” she mused. “Dark, brooding, utterly emotionally constipated… I guess I can let it stand.”

He flipped her off. “Fine. Talking. Rule two.” Twirling the pen a little. “But I’m still against weekly meetings.”

Maria laughed. “I was joking. Mostly. But seriously, we’re people. We have feelings. We make assumptions. We might say the wrong thing or hear the wrong thing. It’s important to communicate.”  
  
Alex nodded, knowing that would be the hardest part. “Michael does seem to have an easier time talking to you.” 

Maria rolled her eyes. “That’s thanks to a lot of hard work on my part. Maybe you should try it.” Elbowing him lightly. “We’ll practice.” 

“We kind of are, already,” Alex pointed out. “It was nice, on Saturday, the first time in a long time that he and I have had a fun, low stakes conversation, you know? Not since we were kids talking about music. Man, I missed it.” 

“I miss him,” Maria agreed, quiet, leaning against Alex.  
  
“Me too.” 

She took a breath. “Ok. Let’s get back to work.” 

“Right.” Alex nodded. “Kind of on the same line of thinking, we need to make sure that we’re not trying to keep score. Some weeks he’ll see you more, some weeks me.”   
  
“Definitely.” Maria nodded. “And sometimes we’ll need to spend time together. Just you and me.” 

Alex smiled. “Our relationship isn’t secondary, you mean?” 

Maria grinned. “Damn straight.” She leaned over to kiss his cheek, lightly. 

“Okay.” He was smiling, maybe a little too hard for this crazy conversation. “Agreed.” 

They fell into silence for a minute, Alex tapping the paper with his pen, gently. 

“Oh!” Maria reached to take the pen. “I have a big one.” Writing it down. 

“Don’t let Michael go crazy?” Alex read, raising an eyebrow. 

“You know he’s going to.” Maria pointed out. “He’s going to do all sorts of stupid stuff. He’ll be over-attentive and try to put all the responsibility for everything on his shoulders one day, and he’ll try to blow it all up out of self-doubt another.” 

“Ugh.” He made a face. “You’re right. I wish you weren’t, but…” God, just thinking about that was exhausting. 

“He _is_ better now,” Maria reminded him, gently. Delicately caught his chin between her thumb and forefinger and turned his face so their eyes met. “And so are you.” 

Alex didn’t necessarily _feel_ better, but he knew she was right about Michael, at least. He was a lot calmer. It was a good change. “Yeah, maybe. But what happens if there _is_ crazy drama?” 

“Rules two and three, Manes.” She snapped her fingers at him. “Keep up.” 

“Fine, fine.” He laughed. “Oh. One more that I can think of. Neither of us should be expected to fix the other’s relationship.” 

“Yeah.” Maria nodded. “We can support each other. But we’re not each other’s relationship counselors.” 

“Yeah.” He agreed, watching Maria write it down. “Anything else you can think of?”   
  
“Not right now. But we can add things to it later?” 

“Perfect.” Maria nodded, and tore the page out of the notepad, getting up.

“Are you…” Alex laughed, watching her stick it to his fridge with a magnet and take a picture of it. 

“Absolutely. We’re sticking to it.” She waved a finger at him. “It’s a pact. And….” She was grabbing the bottle of vodka. “Time to seal the deal.” Coming back with it and two shot glasses. 

“You are responsible for _so_ many of my hangovers.” He groaned, but did take the glass as she handed it to him, raising it to clink with hers, gingerly.

“All of the best ones, I hope,” she said, lightly, hooking her arm around his. At his raised eyebrow, she shrugged. “It’s like the alcoholic version of a pinky swear.”

“I am 99% sure you are making that up.” He laughed, but nodded. “You can chop my arm off if I violate the pact, then.” 

“You better believe it, Manes.” She nodded, and they took their shots. It was awkward and weird, but Alex was happy. If courting Michael was going to be anything like this, well. He could get behind that.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Really this chapter should just be titled Panic! at Alex's house. Max has some things to say, too.

* * *

* * *

* * *

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Maria is nervous, Izzy is moderately helpful, and everyone is hopeful.

* * *

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alex does not live up to stereotypes and war is declared.

* * *

* * *

* * *

* * *

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael isn't great at naming things, but he is excellent at revenge.

* * *

Honestly, why was Michael going to keep coming in here if he wasn’t even going to drink the free beers, Maria thought to herself in exasperated amusement. He was sitting at his favorite barstool, scribbling into a journal with a nub of a pencil. 

“Watcha working on, babe?” 

Michael blinked up at her, a little startled, but smiling sweetly. “I… was thinking of names for the bakery,” Michael explained, letting her see what he’d written in his journal when she leaned over to look. 

There was a short list. Most of them crossed out:  
  
 _Guerin’s Bakes  
_ _Bakery  
_ _Baked Goods_ _  
_ _Sugar Sweets Streets_

  
Bakery. Just _bakery_. Really? She laughed, and kept going, raising an eyebrow at the last one on the list, barely legible because of how many times it was crossed out. “Aliens Ate My Cake?”   
  
“I was looking at Alex’s movie collection yesterday.” Michael wrinkled his nose. “It’s dumb.”   
  
“Alien theme wouldn’t exactly be amiss in Roswell,” Maria reminded him, gently. “How about Out of this World??” 

“Might be a little suspicious?” He grinned up at her. 

“Please, it’s more suspicious if you _don’t_ have an alien theme.” She waved her hand. 

Michael rolled his eyes. “I’m not the alien-obsessed type?” 

Words could not describe the amused disbelief on her face. “Ignoring the fact that that’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told me. Okay, fine. What about Buckeroo Baker?”  
  
“No.” He looked offended, but she could tell by the yellow that rippled through his aura that he was more amused.   
  
“Buns of Steel?” 

“What does that even have to do with me?” Maria opened her mouth more than ready to answer. Honestly, he should have known better. Not that she didn’t love making him blush. “Actually no. Don’t answer that.” 

“No fun,” she sighed. “Ok what about Sweets Saloon? Black Hat Baker? CinnaMan?” 

Michael groaned. “CinnaMan? Really?” He did write down Black Hat Baker though, then leaned over the bar to steal a bottle of tequila. 

“What can I say? You’re spicy,” Maria laughed, and leaned over for a kiss, which was a lot better than her charging him a 30% markup on his stolen booze. 

“Ugh, can you two keep your hands off each other for one minute?” Isobel asked, sliding into the stool next to Michael.   
  
“Isobel, what are you doing here?” Michael groaned. Maria _wholeheartedly_ agreed with the sentiment.   
  
“Well, one it’s a bar I frequent plenty so don’t act like it’s weird for me to be here. And two, you weren’t answering your phone. Figured there was a good chance you’d be here.”   
  
“Did you think that maybe there was a reason I wasn’t answering my phone?” Maria chuckled at Michael’s exasperated tone while she went about grabbing Isobel’s usual Pinot. Michael threw a look of betrayal at Maria but really there was no getting rid of Isobel now, he must know that.   
  
“Yes, but I don’t care.” She pulled out a binder and Michael groaned again. “Let’s discuss color schemes.” 

Michael took a deep drink of the tequila, straight out of the bottle. Maria hit him with a bar rag.

“Isobel. No. We’re not even close to being there, I haven’t even hired a contractor yet!”

“It’s never too early to start planning,” she said, matter-of-fact, flipping it open. “And did you settle on a name yet? I want to register a domain and your social media accounts.” 

Michael sighed. “Working on it.”

Maria arched an eyebrow. Poor Michael. She could feel the frustration in him, and honestly she couldn’t blame him. Izzy was well meaning but overwhelmingly overbearing sometimes (a trait all the aliens shared now that she thought about it). Time to throw him a lifeline. “I’m already going to do that, Isobel. You don’t have to worry your little blond head over his social media.”  
  
“Excuse you?” Isobel demanded. “Why on Earth would you think I’d let--”   
  
Michael took advantage, clearly deciding he didn’t want or need to hear the rest. He leaned over and kissed Maria, mid-rant, “I love you. See you later.” 

“Can you swing by my place and grab Alex’s jacket?” Maria asked, knowing exactly where he was going. “He left it there.” 

“Don’t tell her where I’m going!” Michael demanded, laughing. And he was smiling softly -- probably at the reminder that he had keys to both Maria and Alex’s places, now. They were more than official.  
  
“Oh like it’s that hard to figure out, Michael.” Isobel rolled her eyes. “Give Alex my love.”

Michael nodded, heading for the door, letting Maria round back on Izzy, taking a deep breath, and then letting it out, laughing. 

“Was I coming on too strong?” Izzy asked, unrepentant. 

“Just... a little.” Maria held up her fingers. “You gotta give him time. Even if you’re excited,” she said, passing over the wine to her. 

Sighing, Isobel shook her head. She took a sip from her glass before speaking. “I worry he’s gonna chicken out.”  
  
“So you’re rushing him so he doesn’t have a chance too?”   
  
Isobel nodded sheepishly. “I know it’s dumb. But he’s his own worst enemy.”   
  
“Yeah,” Maria sighed, eyes resting on Michael’s empty barstool. “It’s why I don’t mention that we’re barely going to see each other once he opens the bakery…”   
  
“What?” Isobel frowned at her. “What do you mean?”   
  
“Bakeries and bars don’t exactly keep the same hours,” Maria explained, taking Michael’s discarded bottle and pouring herself a glass. He’s already ruined it by putting his mouth on it. The asshole. 

Izzy sighed. Getting it. “Maybe you can coordinate your day off? And Michael’s not going to be working there alone for long. You guys will figure something out.” 

“New business owners don’t get days off Isobel,” Maria laughed. 

“You’ll figure it out,” Isobel said, firmly. She reached out, squeezing Maria’s hand. “If you can make this triad thing work, then you can certainly figure out work schedules. And I know Michael won’t ask, but -- you know I’ll help whenever you need, right? I’m not just being silly when I’m offering to work the counter. And I’ll even do it for the low price of some free baked goods.” 

“Thanks Iz.” Smiling, Maria rests her hand over Isobel’s. How did this woman become so dependable? It seemed like just yesterday Maria was upcharging her blond bridge club Barbie ass.   
  
“What are great aunts for?” Isobel asked, flipping her hair a little.   
  
“Ok now you ruined it,” Maria said, laughing, pulling her hand away.

* * *


End file.
